


A Dangerous Game

by TheBookishFeminist



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25524337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBookishFeminist/pseuds/TheBookishFeminist
Summary: To secure a deal, Teresa and James have to go undercover as a married couple on a mission that forces them to deal not only with the dangers they're facing but also with their growing feelings for each other.Slowburn Jeresa with eventual King George/OC.
Relationships: George Megalos/OC, King George&OC, King George/OC, Teresa Mendoza & James Valdez, Teresa Mendoza/James Valdez
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter One

"No." Pote growled, his expression stony. "It's too dangerous."  
Teresa massaged the bridge of her nose, suppressing an exasperated sigh. They'd been over this for hours, arguing back and forth and she was getting tired of it.  
"Yes." she said, meeting his scowl. "It's the only way and you know it. We need them. No." she held up a hand to forestall his protest, "I've made the decision. James is going be there with me, I'll be safe."  
The sicario crossed his arms with a harrumph that told her he wasn't pleased but he'd give in. "Fine. You stay in touch though. Anything comes up, I'll be there."  
Teresa nodded, already reaching for her phone to make the call.  
They were in desperate need of a new buyer and, after some digging, one of her contacts had provided her with a name, the Coldwell Family.  
A Cartel on the rise, run by a pair of siblings, they had made a name for themselves not only for their wide reach and prestigious list of customers but also for their exceptional business acumen.  
It had been surprisingly difficult to get ahold of them but eventually Teresa managed to secure a meeting with the brother, Carter.  
He had invited her to one of the clubs he and his sister owned, a classy establishment that catered to a select, wealthy clientele.  
Carter was a handsome man in his mid-thirties, tall and broad-shouldered in an exquisitely tailored suit, exuding confidence, yet Teresa could tell from the moment she walked in that he was on edge.  
She accepted the offered seat and drink, Pote taking his customary place behind her as she waited for the man to open negotiations.  
"Miss Mendoza, your reputation precedes you. I assume you're here because you wish to establish a partnership, you providing the product, us distributing it?" His deep bass filled the room, the faintest trace of a British accent lending his words an air of sophistication.  
At her affirmative nod, he continued, "You strike me as a woman who appreciates brevity as much as I do, so allow me to cut to the chase. See, I currently find myself in a bit of a bind. You've heard of the Velazquez Family?"  
Teresa's brow wrinkled at the name. "I have. They're your fiercest competitors, from what I heard. I-" she hesitated only briefly before she opted for honesty. "I had considered going to them for a deal, but...the way they do business doesn't suit me and how I do things." An understatement, given that the family was known far and wide for their extreme brutality and ruthlessness. While Teresa most certainly didn't shy away from violence, she tried to hold on to what principles and morals one could afford to have in her line of work.  
Carter nodded, draining his glass of bourbon only to refill it immediately.  
"Quite right, that confirms what my sources told me about you and why I agreed to this meeting." He reached into the briefcase resting at his feet, pulling out a thin folder he placed in front of her. It contained what looked like the blueprint of a large house, a crumpled piece of paper flecked with rust colored stains Teresa's trained eye identified as blood and a single photo, a close up of a woman bearing a strong resemblance to Carter, chained to a hook in the ceiling of what looked like a basement.  
She was badly beaten and cut up, her clothes ripped and bloodied, yet she faced the camera with a steely, defiant look which earned her Teresa's immediate respect. Not to break under torture was no mean feat. Images of Brenda's cold, prone form, tied up in a similar position, flashed before her inner eye and she had to swallow the lump that rose in her throat. She still missed her friend terribly.  
As she perused the contents of the folder, Carter continued.  
"The woman in the picture is my sister, Celeste. My twin. The Velazquez took her two days ago, killed her security detail and snatched her right from her office. She works as an attorney, handles all of our legal business for both the Cartel and our legitimate ventures, the contracts, the negotiations. Normally, it would be her sitting here with you to hammer out the terms. We got this note." he said, indicating the stained piece of paper.  
"They don't demand a ransom, they want us to shut down and hand all our business over to them. Gave me another two days to think it over or they'll start sending me pieces of her. They're keeping close watch on us, I have a someone on the inside who's feeding me information but so far I haven't been able to get to her and time is running out. So." he said, sitting up to fix Teresa with a penetrating look. "Here's my offer. You get my sister back to me and we'll agree to be your distributors, exclusively, for a percentage that will be in your favor. Hear me out." he said, just as Teresa was about to speak.  
"It won't be easy. She's being held at Juan Velazquez' mansion, he's their padrino, heavily guarded at all times. We cannot afford an open war at this point, so a show of force to break her out won't do, you'll have to approach with care. Now, Juan and his wife will hold their annual charity ball this weekend. A lavish affair that sees many guests, the high society of this town. I have managed to secure two invitations through a middle man, but since Velazquez knows me, I cannot go myself. You, however, can. Take whichever man you think best suited, infiltrate the event and get her out. I have the blueprints of his manor right here," he said, tapping the copy with a well-manicured finger. "It's an all-weekend event, you'll be staying at the manor so you might want to pose as a married couple but I leave that up to you. Once you get her out, she'll need a place to lay low and recover for a while. If she's returned to me immediately, Velazquez won't hesitate to go to war. You will provide that safe place, and protection for however long is necessary.  
Do we have a deal, Miss Mendoza?"  
Whatever Teresa had expected, it wasn't this. A rescue mission, especially on such short notice, would require a lot of planning and even then it was risky. She could feel Pote shift behind her, displeasure radiating off him.  
Her request to discuss the matter with her inner circle was met with grudging acquiescence. She understood Carter's urgency, it was his kin at stake after all, but she wanted to hear what James and Pote had to say. She said her farewells, promising to get in touch with him later that day.  
As expected, neither of her men was happy with the proposal, but they'd eventually given in. It was agreed that James would go with her, posing as her husband, with Pote stationed at a nearby motel in case things went south.  
That left one other matter to be settled.  
When Teresa picked up the phone this time, it was with a smile. Her call was answered on the first ring.  
"Greetings, principessa, how may I serve you this fine day?" George's cheerful voice boomed from the speaker, turning her smile into a grin.  
"George, how are you? Listen, I need your help. Coldwell agreed to the deal but there's a catch. A rival Cartel kidnapped his sister, he wants us to get her out. We'll take care of that on our end, but once she's free she'll need to stay hidden for a while, somewhere secluded where she'll have protection and I thought-" George's chuckle interrupted her.  
"Say no more, baby girl, I'll take the lady in, spirit her away to my old man's hunting lodge. Her protection will be guaranteed by the King himself. Won't turn down saving a damsel in distress."  
Despite the dire circumstances, Teresa had to laugh at her friend's antics.  
"Thank you, George. We'll hand her over once we're back. She'll need medical attention, so you might want to have someone on standby for that. I'll be in touch."  
Teresa hung up and leaned back in her chair. With everything in place, the only thing left to do was pack as they would leave early the next morning. Her mind wandered to the task at hand, going over everything that might go wrong, checking and rechecking their plan for potential flaws.  
"You'll give yourself a headache if you keep this up. You're giving me one just from watching." James' quiet voice startled her from her reverie as he stepped into the room, opting to lean against the sideboard facing her.  
"You realize this is crazy, right? We didn't even have a full day to plan. But," his tone gentled, eyes fixed on hers in a way that made her stomach flutter.  
"If anyone can pull off a stunt like this, it's you. I have no doubt you'll get that woman out."  
Teresa held his gaze, unable to look away, the warmth in his soft brown eyes more dangerous than any bullet. "We will." she replied. "Together. Like we always do."  
James had pushed off the sideboard and taken a step closer, one hand lifted as though to reach out and cup her cheek when the door slammed open, revealing a still visibly displeased Pote.  
His appearance broke the spell and James' hand dropped to his side as he faced the other man. "Anything come up?" he asked casually, ignoring the scowl directed at him.  
"We got enough on our plate as it is, don't you think, cabron?" Pote growled before he turned to Teresa, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder. "You should get some sleep, Teresita, you got a long weekend ahead of you. Rest while you can."  
She reached up to squeeze his hand in silent thanks before she stood. "I think I will. I'll see you in the morning." she said, including both men in the statement before she retired to her bedroom.  
Once the door closed behind her, Pote whirled on James, fixing him with his most menacing look. "¡Escucha! I don't know what's been going on with you and her, but she needs to stay focused. Anything happens to her at that pinche peda, I'm holding you responsible, entiendes?"  
James held the other man's eye without backing down. "I'll protect her. I always will." was his curt reply. The sicario clearly wasn't satisfied but he gave a curt nod before he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving James to ponder, not for the first time, his complicated feelings for la jefa.  
With a weary sigh, he turned his steps towards his own room to catch some sleep himself.  
He'd need all his strength for the weekend to come.  
~~~~ The next Morning ~~~~  
When Teresa stepped out of the limousine, she had to shield her eyes against the brightness of sunlight glinting off pristine white marble. Sliding her shades into place, she took a moment to soak up her surroundings.  
The Velazquez' manor was breathtaking, a castle-like structure surrounded by vast, lush gardens, the epitome of wealth. As Carter had warned, the estate was also heavily guarded, uniformed men outfitted with state-of-the-art weaponry patrolling the grounds in teams of two.  
Her eyes followed them, taking note of their route as she pretended to fuss with the strap of her heel. When she straightened, James was there, having handed over their light luggage to one of the servants hovering by the entrance to welcome the guests. One of them had searched them for weapons with an apologetic look before he'd waved them on, none the wiser. They'd stored a small arsenal in a hidden compartment of Teresa's suitcase, knowing they'd be searched.  
"Just as Carter said. Two guards, three separate teams, one at every entrance. Timing will be crucial." James muttered low, a fake smile plastered on his face as he stepped up next to her.  
Teresa took his offered arm, eyes discreetly darting to every door and path as, together, they ascended the steps and entered the vast foyer.  
A harried looking woman in a pastel blue pantsuit took their invitations, her strained smile testament to a long morning of greeting people.  
Without missing a beat, she launched into her spiel. "Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Lopez, welcome. We have prepared the Sunflower room for you, named for its unprecedented view of the gardens. If you would like to freshen up before the luncheon in an hour, please feel free. Dinner will be served at 9pm tonight, black tie, and the ball will be held tomorrow. Here," she said, handing Teresa a glossy brochure, "You'll find all the information you need. If you require anything, do not hesitate to ask the staff or myself." With that, she turned to the couple behind them, repeating her speech, almost verbatim, for the newcomers.  
At this obvious dismissal, James guided Teresa to one of the tables near the grand marble staircase, snatching two champagne flutes from a passing waiter.  
Under the guise of studying the small booklet, he leaned closer, his breath caressing the bare skin of her shoulder, raising an involuntary trail of goosebumps. "They're putting the fanciest hotel to shame." he murmured, shifting so one of his arms was draped loosely around her waist, just another couple taking in the splendor of the building.  
The contact made it surprisingly hard for Teresa to focus, but she let her gaze trail over the crowd, marking potential guards who mingled in civilian clothes. They certainly had their work cut out for them.  
The evening before, they had studied the blueprints intently. According to Carter's inside man, Celeste was held in a basement off the wine cellars, accessible only through a hidden door in Velazquez' study. The plan was to wait until the night of the ball and use the main event as a distraction to slip away unseen and get her out. Simple enough in theory, it presented a myriad of challenges and they were both tense.  
When another couple joined them, two men who introduced themselves as John and Alex, they chatted amicably, slipping into their roles of a wealthy broker and his architect wife. James' arm stayed around Teresa's waist the entire time, the feeling so natural and right that she leaned into him unconsciously, their bodies fitting together perfectly.  
When a gong sounded, they followed their new acquaintances into the sunroom where luncheon was served. The meal passed in a flurry of introductions and light conversation before it segued into an afternoon cocktail party.  
James and Teresa declined the offer to stay for a while, citing the lady's need to prepare for tonight's dinner.  
As soon as they were out of sight, they made their way through the manor, carefully avoiding the guards and memorizing of the layout until, at last, they came upon the study.  
A typical rich man's realm, outfitted in dark woods and expensive leather, the room offered nothing out of the ordinary until Teresa's gaze snagged on one of the bookshelves, slightly out of alignment with its neighbors.  
"James." she whispered, his gaze following hers. "That must be the passage Carter mentioned. Now, if we could only find-" Her words died in her throat as the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps reached their ears. Teresa's eyes widened in panic, her hand reaching for a gun that wasn't there. If they were caught here, their whole plan would be jeopardized.  
While she was looking around frantically for a place to hide, James had a apparently decided on a different course of action.  
With a twist of his arm, he brought her flush against him, tilting her chin upward as his other hand tangled in her hair. With a tender, almost shy expression, he looked down at her for a moment before he brought his mouth to hers, his arm snaking around her middle to hold her securely against him.  
It was a ruse, yet the moment their lips touched, her whole body came alive with a tingle of warmth, desire and affection that took her breath away. With a soft moan, she stepped closer, angling her head to deepen the kiss as her hands found his shoulders. So caught up was she in the taste and feel of him that she jumped hard when a thin yet sharp voice cut through the room.  
"What is the meaning of this?" The tone was cultivated yet with an underlying hint of menace. Juan Velazquez himself stood in the doorframe, a furious scowl fixed on the interlopers.  
Teresa's head whipped around, a small part bemoaning the loss of contact even as her mind raced for an explanation. "We're so sorry, Sir, we, uh, we were looking for the library and we must have gotten turned around…" His thunderous expression told her he wasn't buying a single word when suddenly James chuckled.  
"Come on darling, we've been busted." he said, pecking her lips again almost mischievously.  
With a conspiratorial air, he leaned closer to Juan as he stage whispered. "It's true, we were looking for the library. Wanted to get away from the party for a spell, if you know what I mean. Ended up here instead, figured it was private enough. See, we just got back from our honeymoon, and…" he trailed off suggestively, placing a lingering hand on Teresa's back, just above her bottom. She held her breath, both at the sensation of his touch and in anticipation, when Juan laughed, shaking his head.  
"Ah, newlyweds. I remember that feeling well, if you can believe it. Never could get enough of my Violetta. Still can't and we've been married 33 years." he said fondly, his face transformed into a smile, clearly lost in the past for a moment before he addressed them again.  
"This part of the house is closed to the guests I'm afraid. I suggest you try the rose garden. Much more scenic and secluded. Why don't you two rejoin the party now, Mr.-?"  
"Lopez. Carlos and Maria." James answered, shaking Juan's outstretched hand. "We're sorry to have strayed in here, Sir. We'll definitely look for that rose garden." he said, winking at Teresa. "We'll be out of your hair now. Thank you for the invitation. You have a very beautiful home."  
Even as he spoke, he steered Teresa towards the door and, with another Thank you to their host, the two beat a hasty retreat.  
Once they were safely in their room, Teresa dropped into one of the plush armchairs grouped around an intricately carved mahogany coffee table.  
"That was close." she said, her mind still reeling from almost being caught - and from the kiss. With an effort, she pushed those thoughts away. They had more pressing concerns right now.  
James sat in the chair opposite hers, running a hand over his beard. "Let's hope he doesn't increase security tomorrow night. Did you figure out how to open the door?" While he'd been distracting Velazquez, Teresa had covertly studied the room, searching for a clue on how to access the secret passage. A faint, triumphant smile played on her lips as she nodded. "There was a book, three shelves to the left. Its spine was spotless, not a speck of dust. Either it holds the key or it's some sort of lever." she shook her head incredulously. "I always thought secret passageways behind bookshelves only existed in the movies." She pulled out her phone to text Pote an update. "Either way, we'll have to be smart about it. We've already garnered too much attention, we'll have to keep a low profile until tomorrow." she said without looking up.  
She felt more than saw James nod. "Yeah. Let's just get through this dinner and whatever they've got planned for tomorrow. I'll head outside for a bit, walk the perimeter, scout some additional escape routes. You should get some rest, dinner's not for another two hours." he said and, without waiting for a reply, he got up, gently closing the door behind him.  
Teresa tossed the phone onto the table with a huff, both glad and disappointed to see him practically flee the room.  
Her gaze wandered over to the bed, a king size fitted with peach colored silk sheets, an assortment of decorative throw pillows arranged against the headboard. The sight of the bed, no matter its size, brought home the fact that, tonight, she would be sharing it with James. She hadn't put any thought into this previously, but after their kiss she couldn't help but let her mind wander.  
Teresa was no bashful maiden and she prided herself on being focused and clear-headed, yet she could admit to herself that her feelings for James were starting to exceeded those of two people who had faced many obstacles side by side and come out on top.  
"Foolish girl." she chided herself before she rose to make her way over to the bed, the luxurious sheets beckoning her. She'd barely gotten a wink of sleep the night before and there was nothing productive she could do at the moment.  
Teresa sank into the satin's soft embrace, stretching with a sigh of contentment, her eyelids drooping. Maybe just a short nap was her last thought before sleep finally claimed her.  
~~~~ Later that Night~~~~  
Dinner had been a tedious affair. Teresa had awoken more exhausted than refreshed and even a long, hot shower in their spacious, spa-like en-suite hadn't managed to revive her spirits. Between looking for a new buyer and the harsh day-to-day business of running a Cartel, she hadn't found much time to rest and it was starting to take a toll.  
As was custom, the couples had been split up, leaving Teresa wedged between two extraordinarily dull men, Stan, a retired judge and Miles, owner of a chain of restaurants who fancied himself a master chef of world renown. She had politely smiled and nodded her way through a never ending parade of exotic dishes, almost sagging with relief when their host rose, inviting everyone for a nightcap in one of the large drawing rooms.  
James and her had bowed out, slipping away as the party migrated to the other room. Despite her exhaustion and the hard task awaiting them the next day, Teresa found she didn't want to return to their room just yet. She inclined her head towards the French doors leading to the gardens, her silent question answered by a nod from James. He held the door for her, following after she'd stepped outside. The air was still balmy, their way lit by strategically placed LED lights and motion detectors. They ambled along the path in companionable silence until it branched off, leading them into a smaller area shielded by tall hedges that framed a neat row of flower beds. Teresa chuckled when she recognized the blossoms.  
"Looks like we found the famed rose garden." she said, leading James to an ornate, wrought-iron gazebo hung with twinkling fairy lights.  
They sat on the bench, the night still and quiet around them, a brief moment of peace.  
"You ready for tomorrow?" James asked, turning to face her.  
"We're as prepared as we can be under the circumstances." Not a real answer, but it was the best she could give him.  
When he took a deep, bracing breath, she expected him to launch into a last minute drill on the minutiae of their plan, but what he said next took her completely by surprise.  
"You ever think of getting away, even for a little while?" At her look of confusion, he continued. "Ever since you broke free from Camila you've been working non-stop. I get it. Building an empire isn't exactly a normal day job but, Teresa, even you need to rest some time. You're the strongest person I know but you're no use to anyone if you're burning yourself out. Once the partnership with the Coldwells is established and everything's set up, you might want to think about taking some time for yourself, just a few days even. I-I worry about you." he said, the quiet admission touching her even as part of her bristled at the suggestion of neglecting her business.  
"I'd have to settle on a destination Pote likes too. No way he's going to let me go alone." she deflected with a soft laugh. "It's getting late, we should head back." Teresa was about to get up when his hand encircled her arm. "I could go with you. To...protect you." His soft word stirred the many unspoken things between them, a well of emotions Teresa wasn't ready to deal with, not here, not now.  
Gently, she extricated herself from his grip but held out her hand to him. "Let's get this mission over with first. No use planning a vacation if we both wind up dead." she said, a smile taking the sting out of her words.  
After a beat, James took the offered hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet.  
They made their way back to the room in silence, each lost in their respective thoughts.  
Teresa disappeared into the bathroom to perform her nightly routine, slipping under the cool covers while James did the same. When he returned, he checked his phone and stowed one of his handguns under the pillow before he climbed in on his side. Once he was settled, Teresa turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness, the soft rustle of James moving under the covers next to her the only sound.  
After the day they'd had, the kiss, the talk in the gardens, Teresa was hyper aware of his solid form, only inches away.  
"Good night, Teresa." came his voice from the dark. She felt him pat the sheets until his hand found hers, twining their fingers together before she felt him relax and lay still.  
Heart beating wildly in her chest, she lightly squeezed his hand in return.  
"Buenas noches, James." she whispered.  
She'd be surprised if she got any sleep that night.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue mission results in unforeseen consequences.

When she was a little girl, still untouched by the horrors and violence that would enter her life the day her parents were murdered, Teresa had loved fairy tales. Every night when her mother put her to bed she would ask for a cuento de hadas. Little Teresa loved the way her mama's voice transported her to faraway kingdoms peopled by brave knights, noble princes and beautiful princesses and she would beg for one tale after another until, finally, she would drift off to sleep only for the adventures to continue in her dreams.   
Nowadays, the only tale Teresa believed in was the one she was writing for herself, in blood, sweat and tears, any trace of innocence long replaced by ruthless determination to build a better life for herself and her people.   
And yet, no matter how hardened she might be, the sight of the Velazquez mansion, decked out in every splendor imaginable, transported her straight back to the cuentos of her childhood, to castles and lavish balls and slippers lost at midnight.   
She surveyed the room with a keen eye, allowing herself a moment to appreciate the beauty of it until cold, hard reality seeped back in.   
She wasn't a princess whose only worry was which prince to dance with and the only thing lost at midnight would hopefully be the Velazquez' hostage.   
Tightening her grip on James' arm to get his attention, she nodded at one of the bar tables that were arranged around the room. The one she'd set her sights on was at the fringes, easily overlooked and therefore ideal for making a discreet exit.  
As the evening progressed, she'd felt the first flutters of nerves but otherwise she was surprisingly calm. Despite her prediction, she had not only gotten sleep but woken more rested and refreshed than she had in a long, long while. When the soft light of dawn had coaxed her from slumber, she'd found herself facing James.They must have migrated towards each other during the night, his arm loosely draped across her stomach, his face so close she felt the soft tickle of his breath. Teresa had watched him, his features relaxed, the usually neatly styled curls a messy halo her fingers itched to run through. With an effort, she had resisted. The sight of him, so close and vulnerable, made her heart beat faster than any shootout ever had and she needed her wits about her tonight. She couldn't afford to be distracted. Gently, so as not to wake him, she had lifted his arm and slipped from the bed to shower and get dressed. The day was filled with light activities, a guided tour of the famed art collection, a luncheon in the gardens, nothing to tax or tire the guests before the ball.   
After their narrow escape the previous day, Teresa and James had kept a low profile, mingling and chatting without drawing any attention to themselves. When the party broke up in the afternoon, they had retired to go over their plan one last time. It was simple enough: wait until the speeches were over and the alcohol flowed, slip away unseen, retrieve Celeste and sneak her out to where George would be waiting, then rejoin the party and leave with the other guests the next day. The last part was crucial. If they disappeared in the middle of the night, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out who freed the hostage, leaving them with the very war they were here to avoid.   
While Teresa was relieved that, after their kiss and the conversation in the rose garden, things between her and James hadn't become tense or awkward, she couldn't help a self-satisfied smirk when he'd taken in her dress for the evening.   
Years of Cartel life had taught her the fine art of dressing to the nines while simultaneously being comfortable enough for a chase or gunfight, so tonight she'd settled on a black and white cocktail dress with strategic cutouts, coupled with black heels she knew she could run in if she had to.   
James had been studying the blueprints a final time when she'd walked in and the way his eyes widened as they traveled the length of her made Teresa's stomach tightened. The admiration was mutual though. When he stood to leave, she couldn't help but appreciate the fine figure he cut in his suit.   
The air between them was charged with more than just the anticipation of the job at hand as they descended the staircase and entered the ballroom, leaving Teresa hyper aware of his hand on her waist. They'd made their rounds, greeting the by now familiar other guests and, after a brief stop at their host's table, they retreated to their corner in the shadows.   
James had been downstairs earlier, using the flurry of last minute preparations as cover to deposit a duffel bag behind one of the heavy velvet curtains that framed the windows. The bag contained one of Teresa's hooded jackets and another pair of heels, two shirts as well as an assortment of knives, three handguns and a bolt cutter, hidden beneath the clothes. Should they be discovered while getting Celeste to the exit, they would try to pass her off as just another guest, lost drunk and in need of some fresh air. The weapons were an insurance they both fervently hoped wouldn't be needed.   
As the crowd slowly settled at their tables and the chatter died down, Juan stood, tapping his glass in the universal I'm about to make a speech gesture, the tinkle silencing the party as all eyes turned to him. The patriarch took and a moment to survey the room before he launched into the usual we're rich people patting ourselves on the back for doing good spiel. Teresa zoned out as he droned on about the many causes they were supporting, her focus shifting to the task at hand. Their moment to strike was fast approaching. Once Velazquez finished with the official part, dancing and drinking would commence, giving them the perfect opportunity to sneak away. Hopefully.   
After what felt like an eternity, Juan wrapped up, bathing in the ensuing applause with a smile that toed the line between benevolent and smug. At his signal, the band struck up a tune, a lively salsa, as he led his wife onto the dance floor, beckoning for his guests to join them which they did, with gusto.   
James caught Teresa's eye across the table, his expression serious. This was it. As had been agreed, she slipped out first to make sure the coast was clear, hastening across the vast foyer to the corridor leading to the study. Some of the tension in her loosened when she encountered no additional guards, the ones on regular duty currently making their round of the opposite side of the house.   
Teresa double checked that she was indeed alone before she snuck into the study. She called James' phone, letting it ring exactly four times, their signal for the coast is clear. He would make a show of checking his cell with some annoyance before exiting the room, the very picture of a man receiving an urgent phone call at a social event.   
As she waited for her partner to arrive, Teresa moved to the wall of bookshelves, quickly finding the one that had caught her eye the other day. She moved the tome experimentally, jumping when some hidden mechanism clicked into place and the third shelf swung back on mercifully quiet, well oiled hinges. "Looks like Velazquez watched too many spy movies." James' quiet voice sounded from the doorway, the second fright in as many minutes earning him a dirty look from Teresa.   
"They didn't see you? No one in the hall?" she asked, accepting the gun he'd just pulled out of the duffel he'd retrieved on his way. James shook his head. "Everyone's too caught up in the merriment. No guards. You know," he said, a smile tugging at his lips, "When we get back after this you owe me a dance." His eye held hers, the intensity of his gaze a silent promise that they would make it back. For one precious moment, every task seemed manageable, every risk something she could overcome, as long as he was by her side. Teresa chuckled low even as she released the safety on her gun. "Deal. You better have the skills to back it up though."   
His grin fortified her as she stepped into the tunnel, James guarding her back. They listened intently for footsteps or any movement from either side and, when none came, slowly advanced down the narrow passage.   
Whenever she'd come across a secret passage in a book, Teresa had imagined a low ceiling, damp walls and a musty air of decay, an aesthetic someone with the name - and bank balance - of Velazquez apparently didn't hold with. The floor was tiled in anthracite flagstones, immaculately clean, the walls paneled in a dark wood, polished to a shine. Bright spotlights illuminated their path, making the flashlights they'd packed unnecessary. They walked on in silence, their progress slow as they periodically stopped to listen. After what Teresa calculated to be about half an hour, the passage widened, spewing them out into an antechamber, furnished with a rickety table and two lawn chairs, starkly at odds with the luxurious interior of the manor. An equally beat up sideboard held a coffeemaker that had seen better days, along with an assortment of plastic cups, powered milk and sugar packets.   
A guards' station.   
Teresa and James both froze, even though not a single soul was in sight. Carter hadn't mentioned an additional team of guards. If he didn't know about this, how many more unpleasant surprises might lie ahead? Teresa thought uncomfortably, her frown mirrored by James who'd clearly arrived at the same conclusion.   
She shrugged the feeling off and cautiously approached the simple wooden door beyond the seating area, so innocuous and yet fraught with so much potential danger.   
Nothing for it. The only was was onwards.   
At his nod, Teresa stepped aside, letting James take the lead. She didn't like the thought of him stepping into the unknown first but she knew he was duty bound to do so. Pote would have his head otherwise.   
He caught her eye for a moment until, on the count of three, he started cracking the door open. Velazquez obviously deemed the hidden passage and the ominously absent guards protection enough, for the door was unlocked, opening with a faint creak that had them both hold their breaths as they waited, guns drawn, for a host of foes that never arrived.   
A sense of discomfort crept up on Teresa, a feeling of a thousand spiders walking over her skin. This was going way too smoothly, even in light of their thorough planning. James seemed to share her sentiment, for he pulled his second gun, pointing both weapons in opposition directions as he surveyed the hallway they'd entered, shifting the strap of the duffle so it hung over his back.   
The path led a few paces ahead before it branched off. To the right was a shortcut to the wine cellar that conveniently boasted a trader's entrance for deliveries. George would be waiting on the other side, ready to take the hostage to safety.   
James turned his steps to the left, following the passage until they reached yet another door, this one reinforced steel with a number pad next to it.   
Teresa's heart sank. They obviously didn't have the code and the bolt cutters wouldn't so much as scratch the surface. She was just about to speak when, without warning, the door swung open, revealing one of the guards. His blood spattered uniform glistened wetly in the overhead light, the cruel grin on his face morphing into shock when he caught side of them. His eyes widened, mouth opening to no doubt yell for his comrades as he reached for the gun in his shoulder holster.   
Teresa didn't give him the chance. At her sharp command of "Get down!" James ducked, leaving a clear line of fire for her to take the man out.   
As the guard went down, another emerged from the shadows of the room, stepping over the corpse as he came at them, weapon raised, a knife in the other hand. James parried the slash with ease, tackling him around the middle as they both went down. The impact knocked the gun out of the guards hand but he was far from giving up. James tossed one of his own weapons aside, his free hand wrestling for the knife as he straddled their would-be attacker.   
Teresa picked up James' gun, kicking the other into a corner as she delivered a kick to the guy's exposed side. James seized the distraction, cracking the butt of his weapon across the guard's forehead. The hand holding the knife went slack, allowing him to seize it and, with a practiced, forceful thrust James embedded the blade to the hilt in his opponent's chest.   
The tussle couldn't have lasted more than ten minutes, yet to Teresa it felt as though time stood still. Wordlessly, she extended a hand to James who allowed her to pull him up before he reclaimed his second gun.   
"Fuck. Why the hell where they in here? Carter said the basement would be empty, what were they even-"   
"James" Teresa's whisper cut him off even as she rushed into the shadows at the back of the cellar.   
James kept an eye trained on the door as he followed her. It was then that he realized just what the guards had been up to.   
She hung suspended from a heavy chain fastened around a beam in the low ceiling. Fresh cuts marred her features and her shirt clung in bloody ribbons to the open wounds that decorated her torso. One arm was clearly broken, twisted at an unnatural angle as it dangled from the chains.   
And yet, when Teresa reached the woman's side, Celeste peeled open the one eye that wasn't swollen shut to glare at her. "D-do your worst. Sending a… a woman now to d-do his dirty work. F-fuck you." she rasped, gathering what strength she possessed to spit a bloody wad of saliva at Teresa's feet.   
"The bolt cutter, James, hurry." she urged before she met the woman's eye.   
"Miss Coldwell, your brother sent us, we're here to get you out. Hold on, we've got you now."   
While she was talking, James set about breaking the lock that connected the chains. With a rattle she was sure could be heard all the way to the ballroom, the bonds slipped free, releasing the woman into James' waiting arms. He caught her, unable to suppress a wince of sympathy at her moan of pain.   
She gripped his shirt weakly with the hand of her good arm, yet her focus stayed on Teresa. "Who are -you? Vazquez…kill you if…finds…." her voice slurred and she blinked her eye frantically, fighting to stay conscious. Teresa shushed her, even as her respect for the woman grew. "My name is Teresa Mendoza, your brother will explain everything. We have a plan, but we're on a tight schedule. One of my men is waiting to take you to safety, but we'll have to leave now. Can you walk?"   
Celeste gritted her teeth as she let go of James, only to teeter and slump to her side.   
He caught her just before she went down and hoisted her up bridal style, her moan turning into a low scream she quickly bit off.  
At his nod, Teresa took the lead, gun at the ready as she cleared the corridor, hurrying towards the passage that lead to the wine cellar.   
She entered the cavernous space with James hot on her heels, quickly unlatching the door that lead outside.   
A rustle from beyond the circle of light cast by a solitary lantern had her whirl around, ready to fire, when a soft laugh made her lower the weapon with a sigh of relief.   
"Easy, principessa, don't shoot the cavalry." George quipped with a customary grin, his eyes darting to the door just as James stepped outside. In three quick strides, he was by his side, whistling low when he took in Celeste. "Shit, they worked you over good, sweetheart. Don't you worry, you're under the King's protection now, fair lady." he said, sketching an exaggerated bow, one hand over his heart.   
If she hadn't just freed a hostage in a bloody fight to the death, Teresa would have laughed at expression on Celeste's face following George's grand statement. Even through the blood and the swelling, pure bafflement was written across her features as her head snapped back to Teresa. "Man's a…raving lunatic. You…leave me with.. ?" she mumbled with great effort, her words mashing together, eyelid drooping.   
"She's about to faint. We need to get her to the car, now." James stated, waiting for George's signal before he followed him to a nondescript white van. As he walked, Teresa saw him bend low to the woman in his arms, his whisper carrying over to where she stood guarding the door. "He is a lunatic but he's good at what he does. Trust me, he will keep you safe."  
The reassurance seemed to hit its mark, for when James handed Celeste over to George who had climbed into the back, she let go of him willingly, muttering a weak thank you before she slumped against her self-styled royal savior.   
"I've got a doc at the lodge, I'll take good care of her. Now, you two be careful in there, alright?" George said, shifting the woman gently, one hand absent-mindedly smoothing her matted hair in a surprisingly tender gesture. James nodded. "We'll be in touch once we're back. Take care."  
With that he shut the van's door and watched as the car sped off into the night.   
Once the taillights disappeared around the bend, James rejoined Teresa by the door.   
"So far, so good. Now all we have to do is sneak back inside." he said, reaching across his back to grab the duffel which he dropped at his feet. Without ado, he shrugged off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his dress shirt, by now liberally stained with the blood of both Celeste and the guard he'd wrestled earlier. He stuffed the ruined fabric into the bottom of the holdall, grabbing a fresh one he'd packed for just such an eventuality.   
Once his appearance was restored, he nodded at Teresa and together they retraced their steps. Once they reached Celeste's cell, they pushed the corpses inside and shut the door, praying that no one would think to check on the hostage until the next day when they would be long gone.   
The walk through the hidden passage was the longest Teresa had ever experienced. Any minute, she expected an alarm to sound, a host of guards to open fire. Everything remained quiet.   
They would have made it. They were so close.   
A smile of relief blooming across her features, Teresa stepped into the study - only to come face to face with a man bent over Juan's desk, caught mid-rummage as his head snapped up at her entrance.   
It was Alex, one of the men they'd met and befriended the previous day.   
For a beat, they stared each other, both frozen in shock. With detached curiosity, Teresa noticed the gun held loosely in his hand, the other coated in some substance she couldn't place.   
Alex was the first to recover.   
When he saw James step out of the passage, his paralysis broke and he turned on his heel, legs pumping in a frantic sprint as he skidded towards the ballroom.   
"Shit! He's gonna give us away and set the guards on us we have to stop him!" James yelled. He streaked past her, gun at the ready as he gave chase.  
Teresa followed the men, entering the ballroom seconds after James only to realize they were too late. Alex was skirting the crowd, making quick progress to where Velazquez held court at one of the tables. He had the gun half raised, his body shielding the weapon from the couples twirling on the dance floor.   
It was the opportunity James had been looking for.   
"Sir, get down! He's got a gun!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, using the momentary confusion and ensuing uproar of the crowd to his advantage. With a sure hand he took aim and shot Alex in the head, the man going down instantly.   
Juan's bodyguards leaped in front of their patron, every weapon pointing at the man's prone form before they swiveled to James.   
Teresa had caught up with him by now and watched as he raised his hands, slowly placing his own weapon on the ground. One of the guards stepped forward and grabbed his arm, ready to haul him off, but the thin wheeze of Juan's voice cut in. "No, bring him to me, Porter. And take the body away. Now." he ordered before he faced the crowd, hands raised in a placating gesture. "My dear friends, please, remain calm. The situation is under control, any threat has been eliminated. Please," he jerked his head at one of the suited men at his table whom Teresa identified as his secretary. "Follow Victor to the drawing room, have a drink. I assure you, your safety is guaranteed."  
The man, Victor, had already started shepherding the crowd towards the doors, aided by two additional guards who must have been called in as backup.   
As the room slowly emptied, James came to stand in front of Velazquez, flanked by two burly security details.   
Juan studied him with an inscrutable expression. "Well well well. If it isn't the amorous Señor Lopez. Care to explain what just happened here?"   
Teresa had come to stand a few paces away, watching the scene with bated breath. Their fate hung on whether Velazquez believed whatever story James would concoct.   
He gave an infinitesimal shrug. "I'd noticed earlier in the evening that the guy was behaving strangely. Nothing overtly noticeable but he seemed off. I lost sight of him during the dancing but then he appeared out of nowhere, gun pointed at you. I didn't even think, my training kicked in and I took him out." A statement, bar any emotion. It was a gamble but after a tense moment, Juan relaxed.  
"Quick thinking, quick acting. You're ex military. Army. I assume you've seen some action?" At James' answering nod, Vazquez stepped forward to place a bony hand on his shoulder. "I should ask how you managed to get that gun past my security, but in this case, I'm glad you did. It appears I owe you my life, young man. I will not forget what you did for me tonight. Ah, there is your lovely bride." he exclaimed as he spotted Teresa, waving her over.   
She was glad for the support when James slipped an arm around her, the evening fraying even her robust nerves.   
Juan continued. "Your husband is a hero, Señora Lopez. In fact," he said, a calculating expression entering his eyes, "I might have a business proposition for you. Join me for breakfast tomorrow. Please. I insist."   
James' arm tightened around her waist even as he nodded. "Of course, it'll be our pleasure."   
Velazquez squeezed his shoulder a final time before he released him. "It's settled. Now, I expect you'll want to return to your room, make sure your wife is alright after all this…excitement." Before he stepped back, he gave James a hard look. "Gracias, mijo, I will not forget what you did for me tonight."  
With that he signaled to his bodyguards, waiting until the men were in position before he strode from the room.   
Teresa and James watched until he slipped through a backdoor, the grand ballroom empty except for them.   
Slowly, she raised her face to his, finding the worry etched into her features mirrored there. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.   
"What the hell have we just gotten ourselves into?"


End file.
